


Christmas Dinner

by sunflowerwonder



Category: Homestuck
Genre: (darker than it sounds), Betty Crocker as ultimate antagonist, Christmas fic, Dirk Lalonde - Freeform, Family Dynamics, Illustrated, M/M, Magic AU, Mind Control, Strilondes attempt to make christmas for non-magic jake, Witch AU, christmas heist, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 13:20:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13147560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowerwonder/pseuds/sunflowerwonder
Summary: Christmas is for family.Sometimes, a new family.





	Christmas Dinner

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meoqie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meoqie/gifts).



> This is a gift for my best bro Kieran! The AU here is inspired by our OCs Cameron and Elliot and Elliot's family, who in turn were inspired by the Homestuck kids. The circle of stupidity is complete.
> 
> Art at the end is by Cale! (awildcale.tumblr.com) Thanks again!

**The Fight**

When Jake English wakes up it is Christmas Day. It has been Christmas Day for roughly ten hours, the harsh, late-morning sun cutting through the heavy velvet curtains of the foreign bedroom and settling hot on his cheeks.    
  
A phone is ringing.    
  
Jake's phone is ringing. The only other phone on the estate is an archaic rotary thing in the garage Jake is fairly sure has never been connected to a phone line, or at least not a phone line on this plane of creation. He squints into the sunlight and fumbles his hand around the nightstand for his glasses. It's far too bright. The Lalonde mansion was remarkable in its ability to be a dark, foreboding place with its twisting spires and dark wood trimmings. Jake has little idea where it suddenly got the idea to lighten up.    
  
He locates his spectacles and shoves them neatly onto his nose. He sits up in bed. The ringtone makes a fourth loop.   
  
"Mm," something warm and sweet and deceptively soft mumbles beside him. "'s that."   
  
"Hush up for a second, love," Jake says. He's got his phone in his hand, now. A name and number displays itself proudly across the screen despite the sudden drop in Jake's stomach. A pale arm curls around his waist. Dirk mumbles something warm and sweet and deceptively soft into the doughy, ticklish skin of his waist.   
  
Jake clicks the answer button.   
  
"Janey!" he says, tugging the device to his ear. His other hand drops down to gently shove away the open-mouth kiss being placed above the band of his briefs. Dirk lets out an unimpressed grunt.   
  
"Jake!" a tinny voice answers. There's a clatter of something in the distance. "---Oh, bother. There goes my perfectly organized sprinkle box---No, no it's fine---Honestly, John, just pick them up. We'll worry about the mess in a minute.   
  
"Well, I know the drawer was fiddly! That's why I warned you!   
  
"Ah, yes, Jade, dear, glad you're here. Can you give John a hand cleaning this up? I'm on the phone with your brother.   
  
"Yes, your brother Jake. The only brother you have that's not currently in this house."   
  
"Ohhhh, don't you sass me right now, missus. I am one burnt casserole away from a jolly holiday massacre."   
  
Dirk lets out a snort of laughter from where he lies tucked next to Jake in bed.   
  
"Shhh, it's my sister," Jake hisses, dropping his head down to shoot him a glare. "And stop listening into my conversation!"   
  
A thin plume of smoke rises and dissipates from the phone in Jake's hand. He gives an affirmative  _ humph _ as Dirk curls himself even closer around his lower body.   
  
"No, I will not tell him he's being a double-wet pissblanket for missing Christmas," Jane's voice continues, the sound distant but not inaudible. "Your brother has just up and moved his entire life and he has every right to want to finish settling in to---to---whatever that damned place was called!"   
  
"Derse," Jake states.   
  
There is a crinkle of the receiver and Jane's voice shifts from faint hollers to pleasant and present.    
  
"I'm sorry, hon, I am slammed with Christmas prep and managing overgrown children at the moment. Did you say something?" she says.   
  
"Derse," Jake repeats.   
  
"Hm?"   
  
"Derse, Texas," Jake says yet again. "Where I'm at."   
  
"Goodness, could you hear all that?"   
  
There's another clatter in the distance. Jane lets out an exasperated sigh.   
  
"Jane, dear, you can call back if you need to," Jake prompts.   
  
"No, no. I called to wish you a merry Christmas and damn every Christmas tradition the Crocker family has ever established  if I'm not going to do that," Jane says. Then, "Not that I want this to become a tradition! Really, Jake, it's awfully dull without your spirit around these otherwise perfect suburban streets."   
  
"I'm awfully sorry for missing it, Janey," Jake says. There's a level of apology in his voice that's too forced to sound genuine.    
  
"Mother misses you," Jane says.   
  
"Surely."   
  
"Do you have someone to spend the season with at least?" she asks. "Friends? Acquaintances? A girlfriend or something along those lines, perhaps?"   
  
"Or something," Dirk mumbles, lips back to Jake's skin. "Perhaps."   
  
Jake pushes him away by the forehead.   
  
"Out," he huffs. "Out of my phone. Now."   
  
Dirk sulks back against the bed.   
  
"What was that, J?" Jane says.   
  
Jake slips on a constructed grin even though it goes unseen. "Right-O again, detective Janey. I do happen to have a paramour of some sort. And even better I've been invited to stay with the family for the holidays! So you don't have to worry about me! Really! At all!"   
  
There's a sigh of relief across the line.   
  
"Oh, that is good news," Jane says. "We've all been so worried about---Well, it's just been awfully concerning is all! You dropping out of your university and running off to some tiny little piece of rural paradise simply because they were the first place to offer you a public servant job---"   
  
"I'm a librarian," Jake says. "And thanks, Janey, but I do believe I am up to speed on you and mom's concerns."   
  
"You are aware there's library science degrees, right? Maybe we can get you one of those and move you out to a real city or---Or! You could come back home."   
  
"I'm really good, Jane, dear---"   
  
"And you know there's always a job for you here at Crocker Corp, don't you?"   
  
"Yes, of course, but Derse is---"   
  
"It's just so  _ nowhere _ , Jake," Jane says. Dirk scoffs. "Pardon my disinterest in the more... rustic side of this fine country, dear, but I just think you're better than that---"   
  
"He doesn't want to talk to you."   
  
Jake's heartrate drops with an icy cold plunge as a voice that is not his own enters the call. Dirk, the one beside him curled like a cat and twice as cozy, has not opened his mouth.   
  
The one inside his phone, however, most certainly has.   
  
"What---" Jane's voice echos against Jake's ears. "Jake, is someone there? Who's there?"   
  
Dirk continues, to Jake's silent, shocked-still horror: "He's too nice to say anything because he feels like he owes your mother some kind of life debt for adopting him, but he finds the weight of your family's constant expectations on him suffoca---"   
  
Jake slams the end call button.    
  
The phone clatters across the nightstand where he tosses it like a hot coal. He holds his fingers gingerly, just as burnt.   
  
His attention slides to Dirk.   
  
"What the fresh fuck was that," he says, an unusual heat in his voice. Dirk must sense it too, because he pulls himself up and back in bed.   
  
"Hey," he starts, he reaches out a hand for Jake's cheek. "Are you---"   
  
Jake pulls away from him. He fumbles himself out from beneath tangled sheets and stands up. Dark, antique wood slats creak beneath his feet as he stumbles along them, scooping his clothing off the floor with a rushed huff.   
  
"Jake," Dirk calls, all soft down hair and collarbones and sunlight when he attempts to follow, slowly, stumbling, sleep-heavy and grogged. He finds a pair of underwear on the floor and shrugs them on. "Jake, hey."   
  
"Don't," Jake snaps. "I told you to stop, you didn't. I don't want to hear it."   
  
"I only said to her what you've told me a hundred times---"   
  
"That wasn't yours to say." Jake tries to stifle the hot tears prickling at his eyes, the shock settling into searing embarrassment. His shoulders roll in discomfort. He presses his palms to his eyes sockets. "Oh God---Jane must be having a right fit, I need to---I need to call her back."   
  
"I just don't understand why you allow them to hold power over you," Dirk states. "Just because you're adopted---"   
  
"I don't owe anyone anything yadda yadda I've heard this from you before, Dirk," Jake says.   
  
"Then tell them to fuck off," Dirk says. "Finally. Once and for all. You decided to stay in Derse for Christmas because you hate them, right?"   
  
"It's not that simple---they're my family---I love them---"   
  
"If they loved you they wouldn't---"   
  
"They do love me," Jake says. He shoves a wrinkled T-shirt over his head. "They do! And now you've gone and made me the subject of Christmas dinner with your misguided, emboldened talk of obligation and suffocation and---" Something catches his throat, something other than the neck of his T-shirt as he finishes shoving it down. "And it probably won't be Janey but someone's going to figure that I said I was with someone for the holiday, and your voice is so deep, and---and---"   
  
A slow realization ghosts across Dirk's face. "Hey. Fuck. Hey, I didn't mean---"   
  
"I'm just a disappointment," Jake chokes out. He's got one foot in his pant leg. "On every conceivable level. I didn't stay here for Christmas because I hate my family, Dirk. I stayed because I failed them."   
  
He sniffs and shoves an arm across his nose and finishes putting on his jeans. When he looks back up, Dirk looks terribly unsure, unfooted. He extends a hesitant hand out to Jake.   
  
"I'm sorry," he says.   
  
"A little late for that, love," Jake sighs back.   
  
"Will you make a deal with me?"   
  
"What?"   
  
"Will you make me breakfast?"   
  
Jake freezes. He stares warily at the hand. Faint traces of smoke linger along Dirk's fingertips.   
  
"What are you doing," he says.   
  
"Just take my hand," Dirk replies.    
  
"What will that---" Jake rubs at his face. "I don't have time for this."   
  
"Jake English, will you make me breakfast?" Dirk repeats. "I will make dinner for you tonight in exchange."   
  
"You know that I can't---" Jake starts.    
  
But he doesn't finish. Instead he sighs, narrows his eyes, and takes the hand before him.   
  
Immediately, smoke shoots out from Dirk's palm and curls around his. The endpoints of the wisps drag sharply, as if attempting to dive into his bloodstream, but where each trail graces his skin there's only a spark of protective light and a faint smell of cinder.    
  
The laced smoke of the handshake grows aggressive, thrashing and violent, before it convulses and heaves and flickers from existence.   
  
"Damn, that's sexy," Dirk says, voice a bit distant. There's residual ash on his hand when Jake tugs his back.   
  
"Happy?" he asks.   
  
Dirk runs his thumb against his fingers, cleaning them off. "You have a gift," he says.   
  
"As you have repeatedly made me aware! But I also have a very normal, very non-occult family that's probably chattering on about me as we speak and---"   
  
"You can't be bound by magical contracts and exchanges, Jake," Dirk continues. "Why would you feel the need to be bound by non-magical ones?"   
  
Jake shakes out his hand and tucks it into the armhole of the vest he wore the night prior, slipping it on and up his shoulders. Dirk stands near, waiting.   
  
"I think," Jake says, finally. He looks up from the vest zipper he's pulling up. "I'm going to go."   
  
Dirk takes a deep breath. "Right," he says. "I'm sorry. Truly."   
  
Jake's phone rings again. He swipes it off the nightstand, looks at Jane's caller ID, and silences it. Looks back up at Dirk.   
  
"I'll..."    
  
Words drag into dust. Dirk's face is worried. Jake shakes his head.   
  
"...I'll see you later," he says, shrugging himself out of the room.   
  
❉   
  
**The Prophecy**   
  
"So..." Dave says. "Was it a bad fight?"   
  
Dirk Lalonde finishes sliding freshly cooked eggs off the cast iron stovetop and onto a large plate. His chest aches in an uncomfortable, ceaseless way. Around him, the ancient house creaks.   
  
"It wasn't a fight," he replies. He picks up an apple from the fruit store frowns when his thumb digs into a mushy bruise. "I fucked up, I'm giving him some space."   
  
"Unusual for you," Rose says.    
  
Rose sits across the table from Dave as Dirk sets down their breakfast. She sips tea with an intentional grace, a weak attempt to look more mature than the teenager she certainly still is.   
  
Dirk gives her a firm stare. "My dating life, past or present, is none of your concern," he says. Then he turns to his younger brother. "Dave, can you handle this?"   
  
He tosses Dave the spoiled apple. When it hits Dave's fingertips it instantly darkens---the fruit pruning and withering until it crumples into a small lump.   
  
"Wrong way," Dirk says.   
  
"Fuck," Dave replies.   
  
"Language," Rose cautions.    
  
Dave reignites a small pocket of time around his hand. It visibly churns, slowly at first, until it picks up speed and manages to reinflate the apple until it's flushed with renewed color. Dave tosses it back.   
  
"Thank you," Dirk says, taking a bite. He settles down at the great riveted oak table. Beside him, Rose drags a tiny spoon around her tea.    
  
"What about the future?" she says.   
  
Another crisp bite of fruit.   
  
"Hm?"   
  
"Your dating life's future."   
  
"What about it," Dirk replies.   
  
"Am I privy to that, at least?"    
  
Another small tea sip.    
  
Dirk's mouth tightens at the smugness in Rose's expression. He makes a disapproving noise. "Last week you told me I was going to die a horrible death beneath Saturn's light. Pardon me if I'm not chomping at the bit for another reading."   
  
"We're all going to die, Dirk," Rose says. She taps her spoon against the rim of her cup, the sharp ting grating against Dirk's ears. "The question is, what are you going to do before it digs its dreaded claws into you?"   
  
❉   
  
**The Plan**   
  
Roxy Lalonde falls atop the kitchen table at precisely the moment her older brother experiences a small epiphany.   
  
"Christmas---" Dirk starts to say as her prone body scatters silverware and sends a tray of scrambled eggs hurtling towards hardwood floors. She glares wearily up at the inky black portal plastered to the ceiling above her. It closes quickly, as if ashamed of itself.   
  
"Hello, Roxy," Rose says. Roxy's head lulls to the side to look at her sister. A final fork clatters to the ground. "I've been expecting you."   
  
"Clearly not enough to put down a fuckin' pillow," Roxy mumbles. There's a firm hand on her waist as Dirk helps her up. His face is delightfully pained.   
  
"Oh, lighten up," she says, patting him on the cheek before slipping off the table and righting herself. "I was only gone in the Void for a few days. You look like you lost your last puppy in the kitty litter."   
  
"He isn’t worried about you. He's in a fight with Jake," Dave offers, eating off a plate he expertly swooped off the table before Roxy fell upon it.    
  
Roxy raises her eyebrows in surprise.   
  
"Really? You n' English?" she says.   
  
Dirk's head snaps over to shoot Dave a glare and the chair beneath the teenaged boy recklessly teeters. Dave clings to the seat of it.   
  
"Hey---Hey! I'm just telling the truth!" he yells.   
  
Dirk rubs at his temples. "That's..." He feels the ache drag even deeper into his abdomen. The ceiling rafters above him groan. "That's not your truth to tell."   
  
"Aw, honey," Roxy says. She forgoes cheek pats and instead settles both her hands on the sides of Dirk's face. She squeezes until he is forced to duck away with a laugh.   
  
"Really, Rox. It's fine."   
  
"It's not," Rose says. "He has an asinine plan to fix it and wants your help."   
  
"I do not," Dirk says.   
  
"He does," Rose replies.   
  
"Asinine is my favorite kind of plan," Roxy says. She grins at Dirk. Brushes egg off her skirt. "What's your poison?"   
  
❉   
  
**The Dinner**   
  
"Okay," Roxy says. "You want me to go... grocery shopping."   
  
"Yes," Dirk replies.   
  
"Like, at the store?"   
  
"Yes."   
  
"The store-store?"   
  
"Yes."   
  
"The non-magic store? With the creepy bright lights and employed zombies? That store?"   
  
"Yes," Dirk says. "And they're not zombies, they're humans on holiday hours."   
  
Roxy makes a long, drawn out whine of disinterest.   
  
"Please," Dirk continues. "I want Jake to have a traditional Christmas dinner. I'd go myself but him and I went out last night and..." 

As the eldest heir, Dirk's heart was rooted to the Lalonde estate, which made frequent outings away from the mansion’s hearth spread his powers dangerously thin. 

"I want to save my strength for when I drive out to invite Jake,” Dirk says.   
  
"Right, right, right, but, like." Roxy rolls her hands. "You want me to go to the normal human store."   
  
"Yes," Dirk says. "Thank you."   
  
"I don't even know what goes into something like that! What is it, like, Yule with more crucified Jesuses or---"   
  
"Births," Dave interrupts. "Jesus births. He dies on the rabbit holiday."   
  
"The rabbit holiday?" Roxy asks.   
  
"Yeah. The Dead Jesus Rabbit. It lays eggs or something."   
  
Roxy stares at him with a half-horrified expression. "You're tellin' me these bible thumpers got Dead Jesus Rabbits and they wanna burn  _ us _ at the damn stake---"   
  
"You know about Christmas?" Dirk looks to Dave, tentative but hopeful.   
  
"Uh," Dave replies. "A little. Kind of. Not really."   
  
"Do you know what goes into a Christmas dinner?"   
  
"Um. Maybe."   
  
"Do you know enough to help Roxy?" Dirk asks. "How do you know any of this at all?"   
  
Dave shrugs. "Y'know. You just hear things. Around."   
  
"He connected his seeing stone to the internet," Rose says. The room goes quiet. Dave shoots her a betrayed look.   
  
"What," she says. "Not my truth?"   
  
❉   
  
**The Attic**   
  
"What are you looking for?" Rose inquires. She sits poised on a dusty crate in the estate attic, beside a vase of wilted flowers and a broken mirror.   
  
"Anything," Dirk says. "...Christmas-esque."   
  
"Do you even know what Christmas-esque looks like?"   
  
"I've been out with Jake," he huffs. "I get the gist. Green and red. Lights."   
  
"Do you think hanging up Christmas paraphernalia would upset the estate charms and borders?" Rose's voice took on a very particular tone while musing. "I can't imagine the house will be pleased with a sudden shift in religion."   
  
"The house answers to me,” Dirk says. “But I admit I’m going to keep it relatively… neutral.” 

Rose hums in agreeance.

Dirk tugs out a long string of dried herbs from a box with an upheaval of dust and a few skittered spiders. He holds it up for Rose to appreciate.

“Is this festive?” he asks.

“How the hell should I know,” Rose answers.

“I thought you enjoyed knowing everything about everything,” Dirk says. He looks down at the garland in his hand. Shifts his feet with unsure posture.

“Candles…” he says, “We’ve got a lot of fucking candles, that’s for sure.”

“Hm. Maybe we’re not so completely, miserably inept at Christmas after all.”

“We’re gonna need a tree, too,” he adds.

Rose goes perfectly rigid.

She practically spits: “Dirk Lalonde, if you cut down a tree in my garden and I will slit your throat without a fleeting second thought.”

❉

**The Brand**

“What do you mean you shove the box up its ass,” Roxy says.

Dave is frantically scrolling through his seeing stone. Roxy shakes the box in her hand at him. On it is printed “ORIGINAL HOLIDAY STUFFING” beneath the cheery red spoon of the Betty Crocker logo. 

“I don’t know!” Dave replies, exasperated. “It just says to shove it up there!” 

“Shove it up where?”

“It has a hole! Supposedly!” 

They both look over at the hefty wrapped turkey sitting on the freezer shelf before them. Roxy holds up the box in front of the bird and they both tilt their heads. Perplexed.

“So…” she says. “How about we have a nice winter squash soup instead, huh.”

“No,” Dave answers. “This is what everyone celebrating Christmas is having. Dirk’s counting on us.”

“Ehhh.”

“C’mon, Rox! The curtains in the house wouldn’t open for three weeks the last time he got dumped.”

“That was years ago,” Roxy says, “And that guy had magic. Magic people don’t ask other magic people to shove a box up a turkey ass.”

Dave shakes his head. “It’s fine! We can roll with this. I can roll with this. I can roll with the non-magical humans,” Dave says. “I can!”

“Even with their Turkey asses and their horrible bright lights and their zombies?” Roxy adds.

She looks down at the box in her hand as Dave lugs the turkey off the shelf.

“Fuck,” he says. “Why the fuck is it so heavy.”

Roxy’s thumb traces across the spoon logo, skimming along the surface before stopping at the small circular portrait in the center of the box.

The woman in the portrait has a warm smile, dark, short hair, and red lipstick.

“Hey, Dave,” she says. “You think this Crocker lady is a real bitch?”

Dave heaves the Turkey up into his arms. “What? I don’t know. She looks nice enough.”

“No. Like, do you think she’s a real person.”

Dave shrugs. It’s hindered by the weight in his arms. “Uh. Why would they name a company after someone who isn’t real?”

Roxy taps her nail against the portrait, almost menacingly. She grins wide.  

“Dave. Drop the turkey,” she states. “I’ve got a better idea.”

❉

**The Hesitance**

“They’re… fine, right?” Dirk asks.

Rose gently places her fingertips to a sprig upon Dirk’s garland. When she pulls it back, a small speck of light is left burning harmlessly atop the decoration.

She moves on to another barren spot. About half of the string is already alight with her slight sparkles.

“Hm?” she says. “Oh, yes. Trust me. They’re right on path.”

❉

**The Plan (Redux)**

“You want to rob Betty Crocker?” Dave hisses.

“I…” Roxy says, “Yeah. I guess that really does boil down that plan I just explained to you, huh.”

“You’re telling me you would rather spend several hours setting up a dark ritual to steal someone else’s Christmas than suck it up and shove your hand up this turkey’s ass,” Dave continues.

“Yes,” Roxy says.

“Okay but, you want to  _ rob  _ her?”

“Borrow from her,” Roxy clarifies. Her shoes squeak against the cold floors of the store. “If anyone’s making a relationship-saving Christmas dinner it’s this crafty American Dream bitch.”

She points to the portrait.

Dave looks from it to the turkey in his hands. He makes a face at it.

“Alright, I’m in,” he says. “But we can’t tell Dirk.”

❉

**The Farewell**

When Jake answers the door, Dirk is there.

“Dirk!” he jumps. “Jesus, love. You scared me.”

Dirk’s hand is halfway extended to ring the doorbell. Jake tucks the bag in his grip a little further up his shoulder. He attempts a smile, but doesn’t step aside.

“What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be back out of the house so soon,” he says instead.

Dirk’s face is unbearably worried. “Jake,” he starts, “I’m sorry… I...”

“I know,” Jake says. “I know, I know, but right now I need to---I’m catching an afternoon flight. So I can be in Washington by dinner. So.”

Dirk’s face falls in sudden realization.

“We can talk later, hm?” Jake offers. “Once all the Christmas drama has settled.”

He moves forward and Dirk steps back, letting him pass through the front door of his tiny little house and start locking it up.

“I’ll be back in a few days,” he says. He pauses. Frowns. “New Years, at the most. Hopefully. My mother can get… clingy.”

Dirk does not say anything. Jake turns to kiss him on the cheek.

“We’re okay,” he whispers, slow and sweet and so very close. Another kiss, along Dirk’s jaw. “We’ll be okay. I’m sorry I got mad.”

“But you…”

“I know you don’t have a lot of experience but these things happen. It’ll all blow over. Don’t look so stressed, it hurts my heart.”

“You’re not upset?” Dirk asks, pulling his head back to look at Jake.

“Of course not, love,” Jake says. “It’s Christmas.” He looks towards his care in the driveway. “I do have to go do some damage control now, though.”

“Right,” Dirk says.

Jake steps towards the driveway. “And I, unfortunately but unsurprisingly, happen to be running late.”

“I’ll... see you later then?” Dirk calls after him.

“I told you I would!” Jake laughs. He waves. “I love you!”

Dirk’s breath catches. He feels spread thin, his heart already calling him back to the hearth deep within his estate. But it’s good. Everything is okay.

“I love you,” Dirk replies, almost too soft to hear. But Jake does.

“I’ll miss you!” he says. Then he opens the car door and ducks down into his vehicle.

❉

**The Ritual**

When an employee stumbles across the small ritual taking place in aisle 7, they only sigh and stride onwards.

Roxy waves them along.

“I wonder who their necromancer is,” she says.

Dave finishes placing a final box on an archway made entirely out of Betty Crocker boxes. He pats his hands, pleased with their work.

“So we activate this, enter Betty Crocker’s house---”

“Kitchen,” Roxy corrects. “These boxes will probably spit us out in the kitchen. Or wherever she keeps her stuffing.”

“Great,” Dave says. “Then I’ll freeze a time pocket around the house and we just rob her blind like the lazy thieves we certainly fucking are.”

“Robin Hood her,” Roxy corrects. Again. “We’re stealing from the rich and giving to the… Uh. The off the grid witches that are strictly against turkey fisting.”

“Yeah,” Dave agrees. “Let’s do it.”

Roxy closes her eyes and concentrates. Around her, sound melts into a monotone hum. Darkness becomes inky in its denseness. She envisions Betty Crocker in all her perfect, pristine, American dreaminess.

When she returns from the void a great archway has opened before her and Dave. Dave hollers.

“We have an hour,” she says. “Let’s do this.”

❉

**The Inevitable**

Dirk is slumped against his dining room table. Lights flicker above him in strung garlands and the house smells like spice.

“Don’t worry,” Rose says, setting a spare teacup beside him and letting a few leafs stew. “This is the way it’s supposed to be.”

❉

**The Plan**

Betty Crocker is busy when a disturbance erupts across the house. She removes her claws from where they had been petting her dear, sweet, lost Jake’s hair.

She stands.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Jake confesses. There are tears in his eyes as she easily drags herself away from him. His bag is still around his shoulders. He did not even bother to unpack before falling into her arms. “I don’t know why I left---I’m sorry---I’m so sorry---”

Betty wonders why she bothers to worry about him. He always comes back.

“Hush,” she says, but it’s harsh. He silences himself. “I’ll return.”

She looks up, towards the dining room.

“Jane,” she calls. Jane enters. There’s a flicker of pink in her eyes as she stands at attention. “Take care of your brother.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she answers, voice flat for only a brief second before she scurries off to Jake’s side.

Then, the young girl freezes.

Betty narrows her eyes. Jane is frozen half-step, her expression dutiful and kind. Beyond her, the fireplace is perfectly still---mid-flame.

“Strange magic,” Betty says to herself, before striding towards the origin of the disturbance.

There is a boy in her kitchen. A boy with scarlet eyes. Magic genes. And a mouth full of Jane’s freshly baked cookies.

“Fuck,” he says, shoving another in his mouth, “These are fucking delicious, what the fuck---”

“We don’t allow swearing in this house, little one,” Betty says.

The boy stops. His eyes grow wide as he turns to face her.

“Roxy!” he yells. “Abort! Abort!”

Time stutters for a few seconds. He must be the source of the magic. Another girl’s head pops out from a cabinet.

“Oh fuck,” Roxy says.

“Jake’s mom is a---”

“Witch,” Betty answers.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Roxy repeats.

“Young Lady,” Betty says. “As I explained to your cohort, here. I simply do  _ not _ tolerate swearing in my house.”

❉

**The Dinner**

“Come to dinner, Jake.”

Jane’s voice is so sweet. There is something about Jake’s childhood home that makes him sick, but it’s a sugary sickness. Like the haze after too much cake.

Jane’s bright red Christmas dress looks very pretty on her, though. Oh, he missed the Christmas pictures, didn’t he? What kind of son was he, running out on Christmas. Dropping out of school and spoiling his mother’s tuition money. Tarnishing his good family name. Accepting some small-town, low-paying job. Sleeping around with southern witch boys that thought his eyes were pretty and his laugh prettier.

Jake’s stomach aches.

But Jane hugs him right. Christmas is for family! This is his family.

He allows Jane to lead him into the dining room. The red and white dishes are a sight beneath the glow of the simple, clean light gracing the ceiling. Jade and John are already in their seats. Jane curls her arm around his. He smiles.

“Jake!” John says. “I thought you were going to ditch us!”

“He  _ was  _ going to ditch us,” Jade says. “Apparently working at a  _ library _ makes him too good for us now.”

They both snicker. Jake attempts to shrug himself back but Jane’s grip on him remains firm. ‘Oh, it’s alright, dear,” she says. “We forgive you. You’re here now, and that’s what counts.”

“Of course,” he says, letting out a weak laugh.

“Have a seat, Jake,” his mother says as she enters the dining room with a large stuffed turkey on a tray. She sets it down in the center of the table. “Jane truly outdid herself this year, I believe.”

Jane beams at the praise. Jake wishes he could feel like that. Maybe he should take up cooking.

“Glad to be here,”Jake says. He’s ushered to his seat and he takes it, stiffly, as his mother dips the carving knife into the turkey breast.

His breath comes up short.

“Jane was telling me about some man you were staying with,” she says, casually, as the meat comes off the bone in thick, heavy chunks. “Who is he?”

“A friend,” Jake says. “I was staying with him before I decided to come home. He stole the phone out of my hands. I’m sorry if I upset you.”

“Oh?” His mother’s bright red lips form a perfect circle at the sound. He shrinks beneath her raised eyebrow. “Jane told me you were staying with a… oh, what was the term.”

“Paramour,” Jane offers.

“Yes, a paramour.” She hands Jake a plate. He takes it with shaking fingers. “That certainly implies romantic entanglement, yes?”

“It’s…” Jake’s breath disappears entirely. “More complicated than that.”

“You’d best be careful, Jake,” she hums. “There’s a scary world out there, if you’re going to seek out men. Scary men, scary intentions.”

“He’s… He’s not like that---”

“A man that seeks to cut off your connection to your family?” His mother stands from where she had been stooping to carve. She waves her knife at him. “Red flags.”

“Right,” he says. His chin hits his chest. “You’re right. I told you, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Now, there  _ is _ a good girl just down the street from here. Her name’s Aranea and she’s a real charmer. Jane, honey, maybe you can introduce him?”

A memory glitters through the haze of Jake’s mind. He blinks with shock, lets it seep over him.

❉

**The Past**

It’s small but warm. Dirk inviting him into the house for the first time. Before the confession. Before the magic. Before the reveal of Jake’s own contradicting power. A kind of nervous, no, that’s not it, a kind of  _ shocked _ expression on Dirk’s face as he stood beside a lit fireplace with runes carved within its stone.

“There’s something about you,” Dirk had said, freshly kissed. The surrounding dark wood trim flickered with the flame’s ebbing shadows.

“If there’s something about me, you don’t get out much,” Jake had replied. Laughed. “I wish I was special, but I’ve never been happier to ask someone to settle.”

“You’re special,” Dirk said. “You don’t even  _ know _ \---You’re special. Trust me. You’re special.”

❉

**The Present**

“I have to go,” Jake says, hands slamming down on the table as he stands.

“No,” his mother says. “You don’t.”

“Yes,” he says. “I have to---I have to go---”

He stumbles backwards, toppling his chair and searching for the nearest exit of the dining room.

“Jake,” his mother calls, like a mother watching a toddler toddle away from her. “ _ Jake _ . Get back here.”

Jake’s breath returns to him as his adrenaline spikes. He flounders, steps unsteady, his arm slamming into a wall as he slides along it towards the exit. His three siblings sit perfectly still. The stare at him with blank eyes.

“ _ Stop _ ,” his mother yells.

An electric pull strikes through the air and he does still. For a second, every nerve in his body screams for him to _ stopstopSTOP _ , but then there’s another current, a counter-current, that washes over his skin like a protective coating.

He smells something smoldering, singed.

It’s familiar smell. Like Dirk’s handshakes, but like his childhood too. A couple times a month he would run around the house smelling like cinder, his mother glowering at him.

“Jake,” his mother heaves. “You walk through that door you are  _ dead _ to this family.”

He charges forward, no time to think, to consider. He enters the kitchen as plates clatter behind him and his mother screams in frustration.

Before him stands Dirk’s siblings.

Two of the three, at least. They stand with their backs straight. Their mouths closed. Their eyes blank.

“Roxy?” he says. Then he looks to the younger one. “Dave?”

“We had some unexpected visitors,” his mother’s voice says behind them. She stalks into the room and he instantly looks over his shoulder at her. “Came through a portal in the pantry. I know they’re yours. I can smell their family magic all over you.”

“What did you---”

“Forget about this,” she says. “Come back to the table. You’ve gotten yourself in enough trouble for today.”

“You… You know about magic?” Jake asks. Bewildered and confused but desperate to escape.

“Oh, honey,” she says. “I  _ am _ the fucking magic.”

There’s a low chime from the pantry. A clink of metal against porcelain.

“That’s a very capitalist view on magic.” Rose steps out from behind the door, teacup and spoon in hand. Jake and his mother both look to her in shock. “No one is comprised of magic. We simply borrow the strings of the universe through it. Some are more attuned than others, surely. And some, reject it entirely,” she nods at Jake. “But, at the risk of delving into minute semantics, no one  _ is  _ magic. No one owns magic. We can only be  _ magically inclined _ .”

“Who the hell are you?” Jake’s mother spits.

“Rose,” Rose says. "Lalonde."

“How many of you are there,” Jake’s mother hisses.

“Enough that I don’t recommend challenging us to family rivalry,” Rose replies. She smiles, pleasantly. “I’d hate to bloody this lovely kitchen.”

Jake watches his mother square her stance, squint, at this new arrival.

“I am a seer, as I’m sure you can tell. I see many paths,” Rose says. “And I can tell you angering the Lalonde clan does not end well for you.”

Jake’s mother bares her teeth. Had they always been that sharp?

Rose seemed unperturbed by this development. “Maybe we can hold a civil negotiation instead. You’re a powerful witch, one that’s found a foothold in the realm of the less magically inclined. And while that’s not my personal style, nor Jake’s, I’m sure we can find a bridge between us somewhere.”

“A witch-truce?”

Jake’s mother mouths the words like a curse.

Rose raises her head. “Certainly. Like I said, I’d hate for things to come to blows. But I would also like my siblings back, as well as my brother-in-law.”

“Your what?” Jake says.

Rose sighs. Takes a sip of her tea. “Pardon me. I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s sit down, shall we?”

❉

**The Future**

When Jake goes tumbling out of the portal, it’s into an aisle of the local supermarket. He gasps as cold linoleum hits his knees and red boxes topple around him.

“What?” he says.

"Your mother is a witch,” Rose says.

_ "What?”  _ he repeats.

“I negotiated a marriage contract to free you from her family. The most common of witch-truces.”

“I know. And that’s,” Jake starts “I said yes because you told me too, but I don’t want to---”

“Relax, we’ll annul it when we get back to the house. You’re a free man, Jake English.” She chuckles to herself. “Dirk must have gotten a truly wonderful scare getting the bounding question, though.”

“Bounding question?” Jake asks. His head swims. Why were the lights always so clinically bright in supermarkets?”

“Yes,” Rose says. “It’s a marriage contract. Even though he was several thousand miles away, he still had to say  _ yes _ .”

Jake looks around him. Dave is unconscious beside Jake. Roxy is half-coherent. She mumbles something against the floor.

“Don’t worry about them,” Rose says. “They’ll be fine. This is their mess more than ours. Are  _ you _ alright?”

“...He said yes?” Jake echoes, voice small.

“Of course,” Rose scoffs. “We are talking about my brother, correct?”

❉

**The Dinner (Redux)**

“...I was going to make dinner,” Dirk says. “But then you left, and I was upset, and then all this happened and I got the question---”

“It’s alright,” Jake says. “I’m fine. Here. With you.”

Dirk tucks himself closer to Jake. They’re settled together on the old velvet couch in the estate living room, nestled like doves and warmed from the fire. Dirk’s heartrate is sky high from where it pulses against Jake’s skin, and Jake tugs Dirk a little closer on instinct.

“Sorry, about everything,” Dirk says. “I was scared. I’m still a little…” He searches for the words. “I love you.”

“I know,” Jake replies. “I love you too.”

They sit like that, coffee in hand. After Jake’s disastrous Christmas dinner he is enamored with the idea of sitting here with Dirk, sipping from mugs and enjoying the peace.

“We’ll get rid of the bond in the morning,” Dirk says. “You shouldn’t have had to do that.”

“Sure, in the morning,” Jake replies. “Whenever.”

“We’ll get to it.”

“Yeah, when we get to it.”

They stare at the fire, heads near one another.

Jake gently lifts his chin to brush his lips across Dirk’s temple.

“You can make me dinner tomorrow,” he says.

“Alright,” Dirk replies. “Done.”

“And, if you want, I can make you breakfast.”

 


End file.
